


daughter of the seas

by babyweis



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Historical, dodo the lesbian pirate, emotional dior, this is so self-indulgent wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18267515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyweis/pseuds/babyweis
Summary: "Is this how you spend your nights when I'm away? Watching your own face?"





	daughter of the seas

**Author's Note:**

> this doesn't even have a proper plot or anything. i just wanted to write pirate!dodo so i did this

Dior drums her nails against the wooden counter of the bar, absentmindedly staring at an empty table in the back of the room. The soft sound of a guitar accompanied by Yeojoo's singing fills the bar, and the chatter has died down, like it always does when they hear Yeojoo sing. Dior doesn't blame them - her friend does have a magnificent voice -  and besides, she likes a break from serving drinks to flirty men every now and then.

When Yeojoo finishes and receives a round of applause, Dior's shift ends as well. She pours one more glass to a man who walks up to the bar as soon as Yeojoo leaves the stage, and then disappears to the small backroom to take off her apron. Sangah is there to take over the next shift, and Dior helps her braid her hair and makes a bowtie of her apron at the small of her back.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sangah chirps after her when she steps out of the door, and she flashes a smile in return.

"As always!" she singsongs, shuts the door after herself and skips down the few steps leading to the door. The town is quiet as she walks through the streets, the only other people awake at such hour being the elderly fishermen making their way to the sea. They grunt their greetings at her, and she returns that with a smile and a wave of her hand. She knows their wives, often has a chat with them when she's visiting the marketplace. They're nice people.

Dior's cabin stands outside the town, not too long a walk away. She's used to the distance, and in a way enjoys breathing the cool night air, pure, away from the cramped buildings. The cabin was left behind to her by her grandmother, and Dior has made sure to keep it as tidy as she can, honors the wooden floors and the stony fireplace. The windows are decorated with curtains made by her grandmother's hand.

It's home to her, in a way, and she feels somewhat content unlocking the door and stepping in. _Somewhat,_ because it misses something important, something that's more of a home to her than the cabin itself is, something that warms her at nights much better than the beautiful fireplace does.

Dodo has been out in the sea for almost three months by now - _two months,_ she said, and then she'd be back, but she's not. Dior is worried, she always is, because the oceans Dodo loves so much can be ruthless and unforgiving, take a helpless human soul into their depths without a struggle.

It doesn't help there's lately been an increase in the rewards offered to those catching pirates and their ships, and Dodo, as the young female captain of her pride of a ship, has her name spreading on people's lips like a plague.

It's not the first time she's late, because she often stays out weeks longer than she says she would, but eventually, she always returns. And Dior trusts her enough not to expect the worst right away.

She takes her shoes off, stretches her long legs before striding across the cabin to her small bedroom. She stops in front of her mirror, leans in to study her face, presses her pinky underneath her eye. She's starting to gain dark circles, and she's definitely going to blame that on Dodo once she comes back.

"Is this how you spend your nights when I'm away? Watching your own face?"

Dior _screams,_ swirling around so fast she nearly knocks the mirror over as she slaps a hand on her chest in shock.

Dodo sits by the windowsill, lips stretched into an amused grin as she leans her back against the frame of the window. Her other knee is drawn up to her chest, and she's swinging her other leg inside the cabin, a familiar leather boot creeping up to her knee. Her hat sits on her brown curls, and it looks like it's been through a _lot_ since Dior last saw it.

"Are you _crazy?"_ Dior breathes out in a lack of better words. Dodo laughs, heaves herself down from the window and dances her way across the small room.

"I'm sorry," she says, lips immediately turning into a pout as Dior narrows her eyes at her, "baby, I'm _sorry."_

Dior stares at her, crosses her arms stubbornly even though she wants nothing but to hold Dodo instead. "You're late," she says, and it's supposed to sound accusing, but her voice cracks at the end and it might be more sad than anything.

Dodo's face drops even more, and she sighs, steps closer to her and reaches for her hands. "I know," she says. Dior keeps her arms crossed and avoids looking her in the eyes, and so she reaches for her cheeks instead, cradling her face into her hands. "I'm sorry, we almost got caught and had to change our course. I came here as fast as I could. You know I hate making you worry."

Dior purses her lips together, and slowly returns her gaze to Dodo, her honest, regretful eyes, uncrosses her arms and reaches over to grab her hat. "I worry all the time, anyway," she says, slipping the hat off Dodo's head and leaning forwards to press their foreheads together.

"I know," Dodo whispers, brushing over Dior's cheekbones with her thumbs. "I wish you didn't need to."

"I'd worry about you even if you stayed here all the time," Dior says, "so don't feel guilty."

Dodo smiles a little, slips her hands down to the back of Dior's neck. "I'll feel guilty no matter what."

"Stupid," Dior says. Dodo smiles wider and pulls her into a kiss, warm and soft, her hands traveling to Dior's hair to pull it free from a braid. Dior closes her eyes, blindly sets the hat on the dresser by the mirror so she can wrap her arms around Dodo's waist instead. They fit their bodies together, Dodo playing with Dior's hair and Dior gripping at the back of her white shirt, clinging onto her for all the days she hasn't been able to touch her.

Dodo starts trailing her mouth downwards, leaves Dior's lips to kiss her jaw and neck instead, breathes warmly against her cool skin. Dior slips her hands up to her shoulders, heaves a satisfied sigh as Dodo presses her back against the nearby wall, her hand dancing down Dior's body until she finds her skirt, firmly pulling the hem upwards. Once she has Dior's leg exposed, she kneads her fingers onto the sensitive skin on her thigh, makes her lift her leg and wrap it around her hips.

"God," she whispers, "you're more beautiful than all of the seven seas."

Dior breaks into a smile, pulls her closer with her leg and kisses her again, and then again, again, until Dodo presses a finger to her lips instead, drops down to her knees as if to worship her.

(That's what she does.) She kisses along Dior's leg, pulls her knee-highs down and trails her mouth on the exposed skin. Her hands find their way to Dior's waist, and Dior holds onto them with her own, leans her head back against the rough surface of the wall.

"I love you," Dodo whispers against the softness of her skin, and Dior believes her wholeheartedly, genuinely returns the feelings with all she has.

"I love you, too," she breathes out, squeezes Dodo's hands as she continues kissing along her skin, nibbling at her inner thighs with her teeth.

 

_There's a sudden loud, echoing bang, and then the sound of something getting smashed in the distance. Dior nearly drops the tray she'd been carrying, and the entirety of the bar is up on their feet in seconds, the chatter dying down and then rising back up in a whole new level._

_"They are pirates," an old man exclaims, "I know the sound of those cannons."_

_Dior makes a hasty eye-contact with Yeojoo across the room, and then she quickly retreates behind the counter of the bar, where Sangah is standing, eyes wide in terror. She's only sixteen years old, just started working in the bar away from her parents. "Unnie," she whispers, unsure hands grabbing at Dior's arm._

_"It's alright," Dior tells her, "let's not panic."_

_But the sound of the cannons keeps increasing, and there are people screaming outside, and by the time there are strange men in worn-out, weird outfits bursting in through the doors, Dior might be panicking a little too. She holds onto Sangah and pulls her towards the backroom, but somehow, she's too slow and they are caught. They're forced to sit on the small stage along with other women staying in the building. She can hear Yeojoo cursing somewhere in the back about them taking her guitar away. There's a lot of cursing in many directions, and then there are gunshots, and Dior pulls Sangah against her and covers her ears and her eyes. One of the intruders - pirates - stares at them, and she gives him a dirty look._

_Slowly, the bar quiets down, and there's one man standing in the middle of the smashed furniture and masses of people. He's tall, and muscular, and old, Dior notes - quite clearly the captain of the ship attacking their town. He's ugly too. She scowls in disgust._

_"These are the girls ye managed to get?" he speaks, voice harsh and roughly accented as he stares at them. There's mumbling from the other pirates, something about 'others getting more of them outside' and Dior grimaces._

_She doesn't want to know what they are planning to do with them._

_The captain grunts and starts walking towards the stage, his heavy boots thumping and creaking with his steps. There's a girl to Dior's right who starts crying. Dior doesn't know her, but she reaches over and grabs her hand anyway, squeezing it as comfortingly as she can in such a situation. Sangah is still pressed against her side, face hidden into her shoulder. She's shaking._

_The captain fixes his gaze on Dior, and she glares back as boldly as she can, holding tighter onto Sangah and the weeping girl. The man huffs out an ugly laugh._

_"She's pretty, ain't she," he comments at his comrades. There are more eyes fixed in her direction, comments that get lost in the sound of her own blood rushing inside her veins._

_Disturbing._

_The captain takes another step closer, and from there on, everything happens both too fast and too slow, in the blink of an eye and in a slowmotion._

_There's a girl behind the captain. Dior doesn't know how or where she came from, because suddenly she just is there, standing proud and tall in her black boots and men's white, wide-sleeved button shirt. There's a wine-red hat resting on her brown locks, and heavy, extravagant jewels decorating her ears_

_"You're the man who stole my map," she hisses, and then, with one punch of her fist, she knocks the huge captain down to the floor and into a stage of unconsciousness._

_She squats down, rummages through the man's clothes and then pulls out a rolled up paper, and nobody in the room dares to move. When she gets up, she looks at Dior, and her hat is crooked and there is dirt on her cheek, but Dior thinks she's never laid her eyes on something so beautiful._

 

Right from that moment, Dior thinks, now, three years later with the beautiful pirate wrapped around her in their bed; right from that moment, in her mind, all that's ever existed is Dodo, whether they are together or apart. Perhaps she'd been enchanted, perhaps Dodo had put a spell on her, a love spell or something even stronger, because the amount of feelings Dior experiences with Dodo breathing steadily against her neck is almost ridiculous.

She runs a hand down Dodo's exposed back, softly caresses the warm skin and the scars she knows by heart.

"I missed you," she whispers into the air, even if she knows Dodo is already asleep. "Please, always come back to me."

Dodo hums in her sleep, and Dior knows that she will.

 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @kihyooms


End file.
